


Two Bits

by VCCV



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VCCV/pseuds/VCCV
Summary: Whatever will John do when he needs to trim the shaggy mane?





	Two Bits

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: jameschick and sevfan  
> Author Note: This was inspired by The Haircut, 2001, by Steven Walker

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” John fidgeted again. He was rewarded, again, with a swift thwak of the razor comb on his bare shoulder.

“Hold still, Colonel,” Rodney muttered absently. “You’ll make me slip.”

John snorted. “Well, how do I know you won’t just ‘slip’ anyway? I know how much you hate the hair.”

“Mmm,” was the only reply. He sighed and forced himself to relax. It was too late, anyhow. He’d sealed his fate, whatever that may be, when he agreed to allow Rodney to trim his hair.

The Sergeant, who normally cut his hair, and that of the bulk of the Marines, had requested reassignment and had gone back on the Daedelus a week ago. John could hardly requisition a new soldier on the basis of his or her ability to cut hair, and SGC certainly wasn’t going to send anyone through the gate specifically for that purpose. So, until another barber offered his or her skills, he had three choices. Choice one, let his hair grow—but it was already at the very limits of his patience to deal with, and its own willingness to do its job standing up correctly. Choice two, go the way of the Marines left high and dry, and get a buzz cut—his hair quivered at the thought. Or, choice three, find someone currently on Atlantis who might be able to trim his unruly mess into submission.

He chose choice three. But there was still the problem of finding that elusive hairdresser. He had to get his need out to the populace, but he’d learned a lot about the Black Market on Atlantis. He didn’t want to seem too needy. Just needy enough. So, instead of asking around, he bitched. He’d bitched about it at the staff meeting, he’d bitched about it during dinner, and when he’d carried the bitching over into team night, Ronon had offered him the kind option of shutting the hell up or getting his ass kicked. He really wasn’t enjoying his options this week. Rodney had snickered and offered to cut his hair for him. John glared at him and settled back to sulk while watching the movie of the week. It wasn’t until Teyla and Ronon had said their goodnights and John and Rodney were left alone in John’s room, that Rodney made his offer again.

“I’m serious, you know.” He gave a small smile, in which John could find no deception or tricks. “I’ll cut your hair. My folks would only let me have those crappy bowl cuts. I hated them, so I tried to cut it myself. After I trashed the hell out of it, Jeannie taught me how to do it right. I used my painfully acquired skill to cut the hair of my annoyingly loud and useless dorm mates, in exchange for time alone to study in the dorm. They lived on a budget, and when it came down to hitting the hairdresser, or eating, well, let’s just say $20 is a fortune in the world of ramen and peanut butter.”

“So, why didn’t I know about this barterable skill you have?” John asked suspiciously. “I thought I knew everything about you.”

“Oh please.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “You don’t know more than 10% about me.” At John’s poorly hidden hurt look, Rodney sighed. “Fine. Maybe 20%, 25% tops.” When John still didn’t look placated, Rodney grunted in annoyance and plopped down on the couch beside him. “Look, John. You know more about me than any other one person in this galaxy or the next. There are the things the government knows, things my sister knows, things co-workers know, and things I’ve never even told anyone else at all. You are the only person who has ever bridged that gap and known things from all the areas of my life. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

John still had a pouty lip, but he seemed to be slightly mollified at that news. “Fine,” he eventually muttered. “I just—it’s my hair, Rodney,” he ended plaintively.

“I know what I’m doing, John,” Rodney huffed. “I wouldn’t shave you bald or anything. Not only would you look really stupid bald, but I would be forced to listen to your whimpering until it grew back out. Also,” he said with a smirk, “I’m sure that the rats that nest in it would be very angry if I were to mess with their home.”

And that was how John came to be sitting on the edge of the shower stall, bare-chested and panicking, as Rodney snip-snipped with his tiny scissors and scrape-scraped with his metal barber comb. John supposed that he should be reassured at the fact that Rodney did, indeed, have the tools of the trade. That was a mark in his favor. But, John knew how much Rodney despised his hair. The only time he ever appeared to enjoy it was when he had his fingers wrapped in it, holding John still while he shoved his cock down John’s eager throat.

Hmph. Wonderful. Now, John was hard. And still panicking. He fidgeted again.

Thwak! “Hold still.”

“Rodney,” he whined. “Are you almost done?”

With sigh, Rodney stepped back and set his tools on the counter. He picked up a towel and brushed the dark, stray hairs off of John’s skin and then threw the towel in John’s lap. “Yes, Colonel Impatience. I am finished,” he growled.

John practically leaped off of the stall, flinging himself in front of the mirror, where he stared in confusion. He looked at Rodney in the mirror, seeing him watching with a slight smirk. “You—you—it’s—” he stumbled to a halt.

“Yes, John?” Rodney asked. “It’s what?”

“It’s perfect,” John nearly whispered, wonder coloring his voice. “It’s the right length, you cut it on my neck just like I like it, and…and it’s standing up like it’s supposed to.”

Rodney chuckled. “You sound so bewildered. I told you I could cut hair.”

“But, I was sure you’d do something to it. You hate my hair. You’re always complaining about it, making rude comments.” He still didn’t sound convinced that Rodney didn’t have a secret agenda in which he planned to lull John into a false sense of security, and then leap upon him, scissors whirling, until John was scalped.

“I’ll make you a deal, John.” Rodney moved closer, his body in tight against John’s, his arms bracketing John’s body as they rested on the counter before him. “You promise not to tell anyone else on Atlantis that I can cut hair, because I can guarantee you that if every Marine on base suddenly comes to me begging for a haircut, you will find out what it’s like to have to scrub your cock in icy cold water every day for a month, and I will tell you a secret.”

John grinned lazily and leaned back into Rodney’s t-shirt clad chest. “A secret, hmm?”

“You have to promise.” Rodney pressed his hips against John’s ass, using the tempting hardness to bring John to a decision more quickly.

“Fine,” he breathed out, grinding his ass back into Rodney. “Deal. I promise not to tell anyone else on Atlantis that you can cut hair. Now, what’s your secret?”

Rodney nipped at John’s earlobe as he leaned in to whisper his secret directly into his ear.

“I think your hair is hot.”


End file.
